


Happy Halloween

by squadrickchestopher



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Bucky Barnes is a little shit, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween Costumes, M/M, falcon wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26271166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squadrickchestopher/pseuds/squadrickchestopher
Summary: “You’re gonna what?” Clint asks, aiming an arrow at the slowly spinning ceiling fan.“Be Falcon. For Halloween.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 29
Kudos: 190
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	Happy Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a tumblr post I saw that said: _If you don’t think Bucky Barnes would wear lame cardboard wings and swimming goggles to be Falcon for Halloween idk what to tell you. And Sam Wilson would 100% retaliate by wrapping his arm in tinfoil I’m sure of it_
> 
> Filling my Little Shit Bucky Barnes square for WHBB

“You’re gonna what?” Clint asks, aiming an arrow at the slowly spinning ceiling fan.

“Be Falcon. For Halloween.” Bucky is sprawled on the couch, eating chips, wearing nothing but purple boxers. It’s unreasonably hot, really, and Clint kind of wants to do something about it. But also he’s got two out of five fan blades, and he’d like to get the rest done. Life goals and whatnot.

“I can steal his wings,” he offers, shooting a third.

“Nah. I’ll make my own.”

“Outta what, cardboard?”

Bucky hums thoughtfully. “Maybe.”

“Can’t wait to see how that goes down.”

“You’re just jealous I thought of it first.” He pauses. “You should be Captain America.”

Clint bursts out laughing. “Okay,” he says easily, hitting the fourth blade. “Hey, if I get this last one, will you have sex with me?”

Bucky shrugs. “Sure.” He brushes crumbs off his chest. “Do we have goggles?”

“Sexy,” Clint says, and hits the last blade. “Science, tactical, or swimming?”

“Swimming.”

“Back of my closet with the surfboard.” Clint fires another arrow, slicing neatly between the blades and landing in the ceiling. It’s awesome until a fan blade spins by and whacks it, knocking it loose along with a chunk of plaster. “Oops.”

“You’re fixing that,” Bucky tells him, heading for the bathroom.

* * *

Clint comes into the kitchen the next morning—afternoon, really—and heads straight for the coffee maker, which is already brewing. “Whatcha doing?” he asks, seeing the messy sketches covering the table, and the tablet with some DIY video playing, titled ‘How To Make Falcon Wings.’

“Makin’ shit,” Bucky says absently. “Don’t touch.”

“Wasn’t gonna.” Clint pokes him in the side of the head and examines the drawings. “These look _great_.”

“So I ain’t good at art, sue me. We can’t all be Steve.”

Clint snorts. “God forbid.” He moves one of the drawings. “You suck, though. Just bein’ honest.”

“Fuck off,” Bucky says, smacking his hand away. “Let me be creative.”

“Want help?”

“No.” Bucky smacks his hand again. “I said don’t touch, you’re gonna mess up the _process_.”

“Hmm.” Clint drops a kiss on his head. “Will making pancakes mess up the process?”

Bucky looks up, finally, raising his eyebrows. “You gonna do it naked?”

“Possibly.” Clint leans against the counter, smirking. “Why, will _that_ mess up the process?”

Bucky looks down at his drawings, then back up at Clint. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

* * *

Two days later, Clint stumbles in after a long SHIELD day to find his living room covered in flattened cardboard boxes, and Bucky seated in the middle of them, going to town with a sharpie and a box-cutter. “Having fun?”

Bucky holds up a wing. It’s...awful, really, but Clint kinda suspects that’s the point. It’s a triangle shape, with terribly drawn sharpie lines to indicate the different articulated sections. It’s messy, and hideous, and Clint loves it immediately. “Nice.”

“It’s draft one,” Bucky says. He looks up. “You okay?”

“Rough day.” Clint sets his bow on the table. “Want help?”

“I can do it.”

“Alright.” He stretches, popping his back. “Want dinner?”

“Pizza’s on the way. Five more minutes.”

Clint smiles. “I love you.”

“I know. Don’t throw away the box.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

“Halloween’s tomorrow,” Clint says, poking his head out of the shower. “You done with your wings yet?”

“Almost.” Bucky sets his toothbrush in the cup and looks at him, eyes dragging up and down his body. “You look nice.”

Clint grins. “I’m naked.”

“Exactly.” Bucky leans over and kisses him. “Can I borrow your tac pants?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” Bucky kisses him again, apparently unworried about the water spraying on him. “You got somewhere to be?”

“Not for a while. You gonna bang me in the shower?”

“You’re so romantic,” Bucky says, pulling his shirt off. “Yes. Move over.”

“Yay,” Clint says, and moves over.

* * *

“Buck, we gotta go!” Clint adjusts the frisbee duct taped to his arm. He’s wearing a blue shirt, with a silver shiny star stuck on the front, and tight blue pants that are uncomfortable, but make his ass look fabulous.

“Whaddya think?” Bucky asks, stepping out of the bedroom.

Clint just about dies laughing. Bucky’s got a _backpack_ on, with the shitty cardboard wings taped to it, and he’s wearing Clint’s tac pants, and a tight black muscle shirt. He’s also got on swim goggles, red-tinted ones that look fucking ridiculous on him.

“I adore you,” Clint says, still laughing. “I—seriously, man. I love you so goddamn much.”

“Back at ya,” Bucky says, pulling the goggles off. “The frisbee’s a nice touch.”

Clint touches one of the cardboard wings and grins. “Steve’s gonna kill us.”

“What is he, king of Halloween? We can be what we want.” Bucky looks at Clint’s shoes. “You trying out for _Kinky Boots_ or somethin’?”

“You like?” Clint asks, sticking out his leg, which is covered from toe to calf in red, shiny, high-heeled boots.

“I love ‘em,” Bucky says. “Don’t fall over.”

“You’ll catch me,” Clint says, confident.

“Course I will. Let’s go, we’re gonna be late.”

* * *

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Bucky says, pointing. “Look at Steve and Sam.”

“I’m looking,” Clint says, watching Steve pretend to shoot something with his tiny bow and arrow. “Is that a Nerf bow?”

“Probably.” Bucky is grinning. “The _arm_ —"

“I see it,” Clint says. Sam’s left arm is covered in tinfoil, with a drawn-on red star, and he’s loaded up with at least seven different Nerf guns, stashed in various places on his person. “I see it and I love it.”

Steve catches Clint’s eye. He looks surprised for a moment, then smiles widely, nudging Sam. Sam looks up, then bursts out laughing, almost falling over. “Captain America,” he says to Clint as they come over. “Thought you’d be...broader.”

“You guys look _ridiculous_ ,” Clint says.

“You’re one to talk.” Steve raises an eyebrow. “Really? The boots?”

“It brings the outfit together. You should get some.”

“You should,” Sam adds. “They’re hot. I’d pay to watch you kick someone’s ass wearing those.”

Steve shakes his head. “Not very practical.”

“You’ll knock them out with style,” Clint says.

Sam snickers. “Nice wings,” he says to Bucky. “You make them yourself?”

“Sure did,” Bucky says, turning to put them on display. “And they fly just as good as you do.”

Sam flips him off and grins. “Come on, Hawkeye,” he says, turning to Steve. “People to glare at, arrows to shoot.”

“Fuck both of you,” Bucky calls after them, and turns to Clint. “Tinfoil. I’m insulted. I put _effort_ into this.”

Clint laughs. “I’m very proud of you,” he says. “I think you look great.”

“You just like seeing me in your pants.”

“Also that.” Clint looks over at Sam. “You gotta admit it’s creative.”

“Mm.”

Clint kisses him. “You wear it better,” he says, and Bucky smiles.

“You’re sweet,” he says, and slaps Clint on the ass. “Come on. Let’s see what Nat’s got on.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr!](https://feedmecookiesnow.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Beta'ed as always by the marvelous [clintscoffeepot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clintscoffeepot/pseuds/clintscoffeepot). Thank you!


End file.
